The Dead Don’t Scream
By Bridget Squires
Smashwords edition
This is the third in “The Dead Don’t” series. Please leave a review! And keep an eye out for “The Dead Don’t Beg” the fourth story for this series.
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The forest was silent, most enjoyed that deep silence yet she looked a tad bit uncomfortable. Nervous glances from one side to another gave off a sense of paranoia, like she knew one was watching. How right she was! Watching the muscles of her body flex with strain as she jogged along the path set off an urgency deep within ones soul. There is time, there is always time. Time never ends, just restarts so what one didn't achieve today could wait until time resets again. Her blond hair was tied in a tight bun atop her head but the perspiration the sun created made little spots frizz up here and there, trying to escape the constraints of the hair tie. Like time, escape was another life lesson. Anything trapped would attempt an escape eventually. Begging, pleading, planning and such were well known ploys for escapes. One had to simply understand that fact of nature to truly get the job done right. One has to understand that no matter the futile attempts, continuation is the goal and must be enacted. There seldom is a turning back point once the gears are set into motion. Again now is not the time to get off point. She needed to be tracked, like the gazette and lion; each individual had a role to play and would play it well. She jogged briskly, her small mounds bouncing ever so slightly with each foot fall. It was truly magic her appearance. No makeup, no high retail cost accessories and clothes, only a simple pair of sweat pants and a matching hoodie. Such beauty in simplicity. One would hope she wouldn't fail the final test but hopes are useless at this point. The rest failed, what would confirm she wouldn't but to try it?
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Detective Taylor looked over the stacks on the desk and sighs could be heard recurrently. The frustration was growing as the clock was ticking. Tick tock tick tock Taylor could almost hear the menacing sound in her head. The pictures were gory and stayed in Taylor's mind long after office hours were complete. The victims, all 18 to 25 year old females, new to the city and without any friends and family but had little else in common with each other. All hailed from separate states before moving, all lived in different parts of the city, different jobs, salons and so on. There had to be a connection that was missing, that link that brought the chain to a close. Yet as hours melted away so too did Taylor's hopes. Hope was all Taylor had but at this point it was waning. After Felicia Jade Kline, the eighth victim had been found; Taylor had thought the clue that would nail this psychopath had been discovered. Some disheveled waitress for a down and out Italian food restaurant had claimed to see Felicia with a man the night she was raped, beaten and strangled along the West Path. In the long run that waitress had turned out to be as unreliable as could be once Taylor had discovered she was a heroin addict with no trust in her own memory. Disappointment swelled deep within Taylor's chest and often the heaviness followed her throughout the day. The West Path Tie Killer was not showing any signs of stopping, no Taylor would have to be the one to stop him before eleven was slaughtered like all the others.
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They were all special, each possessed a quality the others lacked. The trophy case only further tempted one with the thought of number eleven and adding the next win to the bunch. A locket from number one, a bracelet from two, an earring from three, a charm from four, an anklet from five, a nose ring from six, lip ring from seven, a class ring from eight, a choker (no pun intended one thought with a chuckle) from nine and finally the toe ring from ten. Each shined to perfection, almost mirroring back the exact moment one achieved the trophy, reminding one of the very second before life retreated from the eyes and into the grips of darkness. The discomfort in one's pants reminded one that eleven was needed soon. To add to the glory and wins one had so far. Ten was impressive but twenty or even fifteen would be far better suited for one's self. Tomorrow would be the last scout day, the prey would need to be cornered soon for the predator was hungry, in need of the nourishment only eleven could provide.
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A break from the files gave Taylor a moment to regroup. How would one meet new comers to the city so soon? This answer could provide the much needed connection, the final piece of the puzzle to catching this madman. A real estate agent may be likely but those leads had led nowhere. Public transportation had gotten Taylor nowhere as well. Time was closing in, threatening Taylor with the thoughts of number eleven being claimed soon. The killings had started out a month apart but had moved up quickly. A victim a week was now the killers M.O. It had been 3 days since Lilly Sue, victim number ten, and each day that passed gave the killer more time to choose another victim. Time was the enemy; there just wasn't enough in the day to link it all together. Time dragged on but leaving more questions than answers. Each day was more frustrating that the previous one and Taylor was starting to hate the clocks. It was almost like those hands were mocking Taylor as they ticked along, ending each day like the last. It was turning into a cruel against the clock game that Taylor feared to lose. The evidence was nonexistent. This killer committed an astronomical feat, the perfect crimes, no semen, DNA or even hair to trace. Aggravation overwhelmed Taylor as she decided to pack up for the night. The files would go home with Taylor once again and it was looking like delivery pizza was on the menu for the third night. Some quiet time, away from the other officers and ringing phones may help. Spreading the files along Taylor's floor like paper carpeting may give another view of the crimes as well. The latest lead to be followed was a receipt that had been found on Lilly Sue for some Mexican restaurant downtown and it being on the way t Taylor's loft made the stop both convenient and useful. Who knows maybe this would be the clue needed? The one to beak this case once and for all.
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It was almost time, so close, so soon. Today would be the invite, oh yes to be close to her would be a hardship for one. Resistance was key, no need to seem eager, just use the appropriate tone to sound interested in her as a person. Just sound like one cared which was tremendously easy. A soft voice of concern, a light touch to her hand and a smile as wide as the cheshire cats would be enticing enough. It often was except for number six; a great deal of coaxing had been required, what with her being concerned about safety and such. Little good that concern served six now. Now little worms feasted upon her body, gaining nourishment that would sustain the lives of so many creatures. Six served more in death than she ever would have alive. Lives, unless lived by a code, were not lives at all. One simply had to look around to understand that fact. People were ungrateful to wake each morning, selfish enough to be careless with the emotions of others, uneducated enough to actually believe they were in fact living. Such a disappointment most were. Then she came around the corner, blond hair in a pony tail, bouncing rhythmically with the rest of her body. The sweatpants pulled up to her knees as always, exposing those firm calves. A glimmer of recognizment spread across her face, her brisk pace slowed, her eyes twinkling excitingly. This would be far too easy, one thought as the game begun. One couldn't help but think about how people would banter uselessly about nothing just to relish in the sounds of their own voices, the dead were different. The dead don't scream.